


Sway [part 2]

by lemonoclefox



Series: Sway [9]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, Magic, Tension, Witchcraft, Witches, and have the best support system, i love them, modern witches, some very light horror elements, they're so smitten
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 18:55:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20551070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonoclefox/pseuds/lemonoclefox
Summary: Blindly falling in love, with trouble on the horizon.





	Sway [part 2]

**Author's Note:**

> So here's that continuation I've been mentioning for a year, now. Well, exactly one year and one day. It annoys me that I couldn't post this yesterday -- on the anniversary of posting the og _Sway_ \-- but we're rolling with it.
> 
> Unlike all the short little oneshots, this is a direct sequel to _Sway_. It'll be a two-parter, and timeline-wise, it covers the period from the end of _Sway_ up until just after the oneshot, _Holly_. In other words, most of the little oneshots take place during this fic here, just "off-screen" (_Coriander_ actually takes place right before a particular scene in this fic, so there's a little easter egg for you). That said, you don't _have_ to have read them all to get this one, it just... adds some depth. Makes sense? Close enough.
> 
> If you want to engage and such, you can use #SwayFic on the twitters. Enjoy!

"Have you told them?"

Alec shakes his head. "No."

"Do you intend to?"

"Of course." It's matter-of-fact, not defensive, and Magnus doesn't take it any other way. "Just... haven't yet."

Magnus lets out a soft hum.

"But your sister knows," he says. "Right?"

Alec exhales.

"Yeah," he confirms, leaning his head back against the elevator wall. The metal box they're in is rising rather slowly―this is an older building, from what Magnus can tell. "She's pretty observant with that stuff."

Magnus smiles, turns his gaze from the closed elevator doors to Alec, standing beside him.

"I've noticed."

Alec meets his eye, lips quirked up in a smile. He looks a little dazed for a moment, and Magnus would be lying if he said being looked at like that didn't make his heart flutter in his chest.

What a juvenile feeling. He loves it.

The elevator halts with a jarring suddenness, making Magnus jump, and Alec chuckles.

"Come on," he says, no doubt used to the damn thing acting this way. Magnus gives him a narrow-eyed look of only slight annoyance, before following him out into the corridor. Alec's apartment is at the far end of it.

It's a decent building―nothing fancy, not exactly dingy, with some peeling wallpaper up along the ceiling. Simple. Practical. No bells and whistles. Magnus can't help but think that it suits this particular tenant rather well.

He waits patiently as Alec gets out his keys and unlocks the front door. He throws Magnus another small glance, before stepping inside and beckoning Magnus to follow.

Magnus isn't sure what he expected, in terms of what Alec's home might look like. Located a few blocks away from the shop―Alec says there's an apartment above it, but it's taken―the place welcomes Magnus like a beloved guest, with the kitchen in the corner of an open living room, and two doors to the side. Magnus assumes they lead to a bedroom and bathroom, respectively.

"Uh," Alec starts, closing the front door behind them. He's already halfway through unwrapping his scarf and unbuttoning his jacket, but otherwise seems a little lost, now that he and Magnus are actually here. "You want anything? Tea, coffee?"

"Coffee sounds nice." Magnus offers a small smile, which Alec returns with a relieved one. He hangs up his jacket, and Magnus follows his example, slowly unbuttoning his coat and eyeing the room, while Alec heads over to the kitchen.

The clink of coffee cups being retrieved from a cupboard is closely followed by the sound of a coffee maker being prepared. Magnus's back is turned, as he steps into the apartment and trails his gaze along the humble furniture and personal trinkets. There isn't much in the way of such trinkets, only a few framed photos on the walls, most of which seem to be of his family. There's art here and there, mostly photos in somber, but somehow peaceful shades. The couch looks second-hand, and it sits near the middle of the room, facing a window with a TV beside it. Above the TV is a shelf, filled with little bottles and charms, most of which clearly have some magickal significance, mirroring those littering the shelves in the kitchen. Though, perhaps _littering _is the wrong word; Alec's home is as organized as his shop, by the looks of it. Dried herbs hang in neat rows on the wall by the fridge, as spices share shelf space with small jars of leaves and berries for less conventional uses.

Placed around the open space are small, muted details that Magnus didn't notice at first. There are discreet ornaments up in the corners of the ceiling, as well, though Magnus can't quite make out what they are. For protection, no doubt; it's common practice among witches to keep a little extra layer of security around their home. Even Magnus has it, albeit for different, more pressing reasons.

As Alec busies himself with making coffee, Magnus's eyes fall on a side table, muted in color, placed flush against the wall between the bathroom and bedroom doors. On it is a large stack of cards, and Magnus approaches it. He slides his fingers across the solid, dark gray back of the top card, before picking it up, turning it over in his hand. The stack is tarot deck. Resting in his palm is The Tower, here depicted as a simple but beautiful structure atop a hill, with a bolt of lightning snaking its way down across a night sky.

"This is a lovely deck," Magnus says, smoothing over the card with his thumb. The surface is textured, a little raised along the curves and edges of the image itself.

"Thanks," Alec says from the kitchen counter. "I got it for my birthday last year, from my brother's girlfriend. She made it."

Magnus looks up, frowning.

"She painted these?" he asks, surprised. Alec nods. "By hand?"

"Every single one. It's been a while since she did, but lately she's actually been thinking about getting them printed as decks for people to buy. At least on a small scale. There's been a lot of interest, since some blog raved about the cards they saw on her Instagram."

He says it with a small shrug and a small smile, clearly not much of an Instagram person, himself. Magnus can't say that he is, either.

Magnus puts down the card in his hand, picks up the deck to skim through a few more, without really stopping to look at any of them for longer than a moment. He doesn't need to, to see the quality. He's genuinely impressed with the skill and determination of intricately designing and painting seventy-eight unique images, each as vibrant as the last.

"They're beautiful," he says, and he means it. "Very detailed."

"Yeah, well," Alec says, "Clary's very talented." He turns to Magnus and adds in an almost conspiring tone, "But don't let her know I said that."

Magnus smiles.

"Your secret is safe with me." Alec, satisfied, turns back to his task. Magnus puts the deck back onto the table, face down. "I've never gotten that attached to a tarot deck. I prefer scrying, personally. Used to," he adds, a correction.

Alec makes a face.

"Could never quite get the hang of that," he says. "I need something more―" He rubs his fingers together, searching for the right word― "tangible."

_Of course._

"I'll admit," Magnus says, "any kind of divination seems like an odd habit for someone as pragmatic as yourself."

Bold, perhaps, to make such a statement about someone he has really only known a few weeks. But Magnus feels certain of his assessment. He feels even more certain when Alec breathes a laugh.

"Maybe," he says. "It is tricky. You can never be sure what the cards are referring to, or when, or how, or on what scale and in relation to whom. It's a lot of interpretation, and most of it is about the present, rather than the future. But I don't know. I guess I find it... comforting."

Magnus nods slowly, looks back down at the deck. He carefully adjusts the stack, lining up all the edges to the way they were before. Immaculate.

"So," Alec says after a few moments, almost a little hesitantly, eyes now on the coffee maker. Magnus looks up at his tone, turning away from the side table. "The median is this week. You doing anything?"

Alec looks back at Magnus then, who tilts his head in consideration.

"I don't know," he says truthfully. He frowns. "I don't think so."

"Why?"

"I've only just started getting comfortable with magick again," Magnus says carefully, gesturing softly with his hands. "And given the nature of the median, I'd feel... vulnerable, I suppose."

That statement itself is vulnerable, but Magnus has given up on being surprised by how honest he can be with Alec, even after such a short time. How effortless it is.

Alec nods understandingly, as though he hadn't quite thought of that.

"Good point," he says, now pouring the coffee into a pair of rounded, gray glazed mugs. "Not the best time, probably."

"Right."

That one time of year when the veil between realms and planes is at its thinnest? Magnus can't imagine being more exposed. Maybe if he were at his full strength, but he's not about to let his guard down now. Not after so diligently keeping it up for fifteen years.

With the puttering of the coffee maker gone, the kitchen is now silent and still, but comfortably so. There's something safe about this space, something that makes Magnus feel at home, at ease. Protected.

"Well," Alec says, bringing the mugs over to the table and setting them down with a soft _thud_. "I'm asking 'cause my siblings and I usually get together then. When we were kids, we used to celebrate Halloween at the same time, like everyone else." He shrugs with a little smile, sitting down. Magnus sits down across from him. "The mood of it kind of stuck."

"Meaning?" Magnus asks, with a small smile.

"Meaning," Alec says, "that any circle or rite we have is usually followed up by a horror movie marathon. And lots of candy. Or alcohol. Or both."

Magnus lets out a laugh.

"That does sound pretty amazing," he admits.

"Yeah." Alec chuckles, a fond look on his face at the mention of his siblings. Then his smile falters a little, turns into something more tentative. "You're welcome to join us, if you want."

A swoop in Magnus's stomach, of a kind he hasn't felt in many years. It has been only a few weeks, and Alec already feels confident in wanting Magnus to meet those closest to him. Not his parents, though, not yet. Maybe not ever, if Magnus has a say in the matter. They've talked about this a few times already, and Magnus highly doubts they'd be okay with this relationship, no matter how certain Alec is that it won't matter.

"Wouldn't that also involve a bigger celebration?" Magnus asks, and Alec inclines his head.

"Yes," he admits. "My family tends to have a hand in organizing that, it's basically an event for any local coven-members. Nothing too extravagant, pretty lowkey. Given the public eye, and all." He shakes his head. "But we won't be there long. Me, Jace, Izzy... We usually just stick around for the official stuff, make an appearance. Then we go back to someone's place and just hang out, or maybe go out somewhere. You wouldn't have to do anything big, if that's what you mean. It'll just be a few of us."

Magnus shifts in his seat, runs his fingers along the smooth surface of the rounded mug sitting in front of him. Its upper edge is brown, fading nicely into the speckled dove gray of the rest. Magnus loops his finger through the handle and lifts the mug to his lips, sipping the still slightly too-hot coffee. He considers perhaps adding some cream. Alec, meanwhile, takes his coffee black.

"I appreciate the invitation," Magnus says after a few moments' consideration, "but I think I'll have to decline. I don't know if I'm quite up for being thrown into the Lightwood crowd, just yet."

Any crowd, if he's being honest.

Alec quirks a smile, then presses his lips together, thinking.

"You don't have to," he says, a tiny furrow between his brows. It's one of determination, rather than confusion or irritation, Magnus has learned that since he met him. It's just one of the many little gestures and expressions of Alec's that he has already committed to memory. "It could also just be us, if you want."

That takes Magnus by surprise. He blinks, lowers his mug slightly.

"I couldn't ask you to do that," he says.

"You're not," Alec points out. "I am." When Magnus still doesn't reply, Alec sighs. "If you want to be alone, I respect that. I won't be offended. Just letting you know that I'm there, if you want me to be."

The swelling of Magnus's heart is almost physically palpable, something bright building in his chest and no doubt showing on his face. He must look awed, adoring, moved. If his expression is anywhere close to what he's feeling, at the moment.

"Thank you," he says quietly. A pause. "But I think I'd prefer sitting this one out entirely. Like I said, it's been some time, and I just..."

"Need to take it slow."

Magnus nods, unsure if they're talking only about the median anymore, or something else.

They haven't talked much about their relationship since that afternoon in Alec's shop, just last week. Not in any concrete terms. Just in matters of how to proceed, how public it should be, if public at all. You never know who might be watching, who might care.

It's not about them both being men―no one cares about that. It's more about social class. Their relationship is by no means violating any rules, official or otherwise, and the vast majority of people in their community wouldn't care about that at all, either. But Alec's family would. And if not them, then his coven. Magnus doesn't want Alec's reputation to be tainted because of him, no matter how much Alec assures him that that's not the case, and that he wouldn't care even if it were.

Magnus does appreciate the romantic notion of that. Even if he knows better. He _did_ know better. He knew better, but still went against every piece of his better judgment that day. Found himself with Alec in that back room, close and warm and _real_, their lips pressed together, sparkling, splendid joy dancing through Magnus's veins like that night in the park. He was scared before it, he was scared during, and he's still scared, now.

But at least now he knows it's worth it. He knows it, feels it in his very bones.

Another stretch of silence. The low hum of ventilation, harmonizing with the frequency of the fridge, a car horn sounding somewhere on the street below the window, a neighbor walking around upstairs. The air smells of coffee and, faintly, of dry, smoky wood.

Alec's hand finds its way across the table, slipping into Magnus's and effortlessly entwining their fingers in a loose, forgiving grip. He says nothing, sighs as Magnus gently smoothes his thumb along his finger, the slightest shiver of static running across his skin in its wake. Magnus takes a deep breath, and with it, a feeling of home and comfort, of peace, of calm and quiet safety. Unknown, familiar. Right.

The coffee is still a little too hot when he takes a sip.

X

"My child is a menace."

Catarina sounds more tired and flat, than anything, and Magnus throws her a glance. They've barely sat down in their favorite corner of their favorite café, Catarina still shrugging off her coat to hang it over her chair.

"Any particular reason?" Magnus asks lightly, sitting down across from her. "Or just in general?"

Catarina sighs, and takes her seat.

"You know how it is," she says. "She's going all independent on me. The other day, I found her digging around in my herb collection."

Magnus frowns.

"So?"

"The one I keep locked in a cupboard," Catarina clarifies, and Magnus straightens a little.

"Oh," he says. "Is she okay?"

"Yeah." Catarina sighs, taking her hot drink and leaning back in her chair. The chairs are mostly mismatched, in this café. Not even on purpose―Magnus knows for a fact that most of them were gifts and yard sale finds, when Dot first opened this place. It adds to the homey charm of it, he likes to think.

"Yet you don't seem too at ease," Magnus says dryly. Catarina gives him a look.

"I don't know," she says. "She was a little... freaked out, I guess. Said she saw something."

"Like what?"

Catarina shrugs.

"Something in the window," she says. "A black bird, she said. Scared her."

"Poor thing."

"Madzie's a big girl," Catarina says. "She'll be fine. Honestly, I think she was just trying to throw me off, since I caught her red-handed." She smiles, exhausted but fond. "But I can't exactly be mad at her for being curious."

"No," Magnus agrees, smiling. He blows on his tea, inclines his head. "Maybe get a better lock, though."

Catarina laughs, some of the heaviness leaving her shoulders. Magnus knows that she's been working particularly hard this past week, pulling extra shifts at the hospital. She insists that she enjoys it, even when it wears her down to the bone.

"Hey," she says after a few moments of silence, nudging Magnus's ankle under the table. "How's the thing going? With the shopkeeper?" Magnus sighs, can't help the soft and dreamy sound of it. Catarina notices, and rolls her eyes. "Never mind, I think I just got my answer."

"It's going well, I'll have you know," Magnus says, a little more firmly, but good-natured. "And 'shopkeeper' makes him sound like a character in a romance novel."

"Oh, really?"

"A period drama romance novel."

"And that doesn't appeal to your romantic heart, is that what you're saying?"

"Your choice of words, not mine."

Catarina lets out something between a sigh and a laugh. She just watches Magnus for a moment, the murmur of voices and clinks of mugs and saucers a soft ambiance around them.

"It suits you," she eventually says. She gestures at his face. "This. It looks good."

"What do you mean?" Magnus asks, with a small laugh, though he has an idea what she's talking about.

"There's a kind of... glow, about you," Catarina says. "Not _that _kind of glow. Though, I mean, obviously that's been going on, too―"

"Not the place," Magnus cuts her off primly, glancing at their surroundings, and she laughs. "But yes, I suppose I do feel... better. Somehow. Not just with Alec. But coming back to _this_, to magick. It's been a welcome change."

It feels vulnerable, saying it out loud. Too vulnerable, if it had been to anyone but Catarina, one of his oldest friends. One of the first friends he made after leaving his family, all those years ago. Her, and Ragnor, who has been living abroad for almost a half a decade now. They Skype, occasionally. He's the kind of friend who won't call for a year, but who would help you hide a body if you asked. Huffing and complaining the whole time, but he'd do it.

"I'm glad," Catarina says. Her voice is soft, sincere. "It's been nice, seeing you find your way back to your old self. Well, your old love for it, I suppose. You never seemed quite happy, going without magick. Not really. Like something was missing."

It was. Magnus knows that, even more so now, than before. He can't believe that he went so long without it, regardless of his rationalizing and reasons.

Another thing that was missing was Alec. Not just love or what he represents, but _him. _Something unique and rare, all on his own.

"You seem happy, now," Catarina says. Magnus smiles a little, softly, something private.

"I think I am."

X

Magnus has a nice kitchen, but Alec shouldn't be surprised. He barely was, upon his first visit, and they didn't spend much time in it, anyway. That time, he didn't stay the night in Magnus's apartment. The second time, he did. It wasn't planned, but keeping their hands off each other just seemed like an entirely impossible concept at the time, and getting back out of bed after wasn't exactly a priority.

So much for taking it slow, at least in that department.

"Give me that," Alec says, holding his hand out for the wooden spoon Magnus is currently using to stir the pot on the stove. Magnus, however, shields the pot with his body, with a subtle angling of his shoulders.

"Never," he says calmly. "You nearly killed us both, last time."

Alec makes a face, doubtful.

"That's a little dramatic," he says. Magnus turns to him, eyebrows raised.

"Is it?" he asks. "I tasted burnt pork for days after."

"Definitely dramatic."

"Are you saying our last home-cooked meal was good?" Magnus challenges. Alec, predictably, has no real answer for this. So he just straightens his back and looks away.

"Fine," he says. "You do the cooking, then."

"I'm trying to," Magnus says, going back to his stirring. Alec will admit that the sauce smells positively enticing. "But I keep getting distracted."

"Hm?" Alec says, leaning back against the counter and popping a stolen piece of chopped bell pepper into his mouth. "By what?"

Magnus narrows his eyes.

"Don't play dumb," he says. "It's not a good look on you."

Alec's eyebrows rise innocently. He shakes his head, to add to the effect.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," he says. Magnus just makes a noise and turns back to the food, and a smile creeps onto Alec's face. He pushes away from the counter and slides behind Magnus, letting a hand trail along his hip as he goes. He puts himself behind him, looping both arms around his waist, chest pressed against his strong back.

"Oh, yes," Magnus says dryly. "Completely clueless."

Alec hums in response. He places a light kiss to the back of Magnus's neck, closing his eyes and just inhaling for a moment.

"Completely," he murmurs, placing another kiss against the warm skin, then another. He trails a few down toward the collar of Magnus's button-up shirt, before resting his chin against his shoulder and simply nuzzling against his neck. He can feel Magnus smiling, can sense it. The soft music spilling from the speakers in Magnus's living room makes its way into the kitchen, which only has the lamp above the stove lit, at the moment. It's cozy. The air is full of spices and food and warmth. Alec never wants to leave.

Magnus hums quietly to himself, the soft vibration of it running across Alec's skin, and he reaches up to the spice rack above the stove. Alec follows the movement, watches as Magnus's fingers run along the small jars and labels, eventually settling on tarragon. Sorted neatly between stinging nettle and thyme.

Alec just watches him work for a minute or two, leaning over his shoulder and occasionally feathering kisses against his neck and his cheek. Magnus seems rather happy with that, a small smile curling his mouth every time it happens. Alec likes that. He loves it. He loves seeing that smile almost as much as he loves putting it there. He knows that much already, even though it's only been a little over a month since he and Magnus first met.

"Alright," Magnus says after a little while. He scoops up some sauce and gently pulls off the excess against the edge of the pot, before holding up the spoon toward his shoulder. "Try it."

Alec leans forward slightly, moving just enough to taste the sauce. He smacks his lips.

"It's good," he says, but does his best to pack a lot of positive sentiment into the simple statement, without words. Magnus seems to pick up on it, and he hums, goes back to stirring as Alec presses a kiss to his jaw.

"I know."

X

It's not until late November that Magnus feels ready to go any deeper than the most shallow of meditative states, much closer to what a more comprehensive circle would entail.

It's on a Thursday night, in his bedroom, lights out all around him. Since he started practicing again, he has slowly built it back up, all of it. He has all his tools now, any herbs, stones, inks and papers he may need on a day-to-day basis. An altar, though humble and small, has been set up in front of him. Unlike with the rest of his style―be it fashion or decor―Magnus prefers the magickal aspect of his life humble and nondescript, visually speaking. It's something personal, something he likes to keep tucked away for himself.

He has even acquired a grimoire, a new one, black, soft leather with ornate etchings along the sides. He did bring his old one―his first one―with him when he fled from his family, all those years ago, but he hasn't touched it since. It feels tainted, somehow. And yet, he can't seem to bring himself to get rid of it. This new one is a fresh start, he likes to think.

The book is still mostly empty, so far, aside from some useful spells and recipes Magnus knows by heart and knows he might need on a regular basis. As it should be, he feels. A blank slate to decorate and fill with knowledge and whatever else the future might hold.

The floor isn't uncomfortable beneath him. Legs crossed and back straight, he finds it rather easy, relaxing. His shoulders are loose, muscles settled. In front of him is a thick, cylindrical candle, its color a dark lavender and its wick lit. On it are symbols drawn, both those of his own magickal language and more neutral ones. Around him is an already-drawn, protective circle, physically marked by bits of raw onyx and willow bark. Seemed appropriate for the occasion. Magnus hasn't dared do this in quite some time, after all.

Eyes closed, he sinks down into himself rather quickly, magick drawn from the ground―despite being four floors up―slipping through his veins and filling him up. It's a meditative state he's intimately familiar with, a few weeks in now right back to the same ease and comfort as he once had. But this is more than just a simple meditation. He's going on a trip.

Astral projection isn't something for beginners to dive into; it's easy to get lost and overwhelmed in sensation when pushing your mental self out of the physical. If you can even manage to separate the two, to begin with. But Magnus used to do this all the time, and he feels confident enough now to return to it. Sure enough, it only takes him a few minutes to reach that state of mind, that abstract level of being present and not, fingers and limbs going oddly numb. No, not numb. Empty. Heavy. As though they're there, but not quite. Where it might scare a novice, Magnus finds it to be a rather soothing sensation.

The silence around him remains, but now shares space with something else, something bright and in motion. Something living. As his mind moves through it, his body weightless, Magnus feels the vague presence of others like himself, other witches taking what might be the equivalent of a late-night stroll through this astral plane. Other energies he can't quite place or recognize. It's pleasant, light, and Magnus smiles softly to himself. He really has missed this. He's not sure why he waited so long to do it again, why he was so hesitant. He can't fathom why he ever chose to give this up.

The sudden chill that envelops him is a harsh reminder. A non-physical sensation, but still highly present, slowly wrapping around him, enveloping him, sinking him into a dark, ice-cold pond. Magnus takes a deep breath, as a high-pitched ringing slowly rises in his ears, blocking out any and everything else. It leaves him gasping, struggling to breathe. Gone are the presences around him, gone is that weightlessness and peace. It's pitch-black now, cold, empty―all but for this new, malevolent presence gleefully tightening its grip around him.

He shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't have done this. This was a mistake. He should leave. But he can't. Where separating himself from his physical body can be difficult, coming back to it should be nearly effortless. But he can't. He's trapped.

There's a shift in the air. If this were a physical place, Magnus would swear that he feels hot breath fanning over his neck.

_Found you._

It's not a voice, not really. It's more of a feeling, a prickling up along his neck, a chill across his skin―a presence, reaching and grasping with clawed hands, grabbing at him and desperately trying to pull him further underneath that black, cold, deathly still surface. Wrap him up in barbed wire. Eat him alive.

It's waking up from a nightmare. Running through mud. Trying to move his limbs and open his eyes, only to find that they're all made of solid lead, detached and sleeping. That jagged cold tightens around him, almost has him, and Magnus's breathing is like knives in his lungs. Like fire. Drowning and suffocation, all at once.

"Magnus!"

A strong grip on his shoulder yanks him out of it, with such force that it causes a swooping sensation in his stomach, like falling from a great height. He senses the frustrated rage of the presence as he's pulled away, clawed, cold limbs reaching and grasping at nothing.

Within moments, Magnus's eyes are open―staring into a pair of wide and worried hazel ones.

"Hey." Alec's voice is lower now, a little out of breath, as though he's been running. His hands move up to Magnus's face, his neck, smoothing over his skin as though looking for injuries, and exhaling with relief when he finds none. "Hey. You're okay."

Magnus sucks in a breath. His throat is dry, and it makes him cough, but at least it's real and physical, and his own. He puts a shaky hand over one of Alec's, resists the urge to close his eyes; he's not sure what he might see, if he does.

"Magnus." Alec's voice is soft, concerned, but steady. His thumb smoothes over Magnus's brow bone and across his temple. "You're okay."

Magnus believes him, despite his gut telling him otherwise. For now, he believes him, and he falls forward with a heavy exhale, forehead against Alec's shoulder, weak enough for Alec to wrap his arms around him and hold him against his chest. He swallows, finds himself clinging to this wonderful man in an almost desperate grip. His body is covered in a cold sweat, shivering and tense, nausea turning his stomach.

"How did you know?" he asks, his voice dry and thin. He clears his throat, as though it will help. He doesn't need to elaborate on his question, though.

"Just had a feeling," Alec says after a moment, almost a little unsure. He smoothes over the back of Magnus's head, and this time Magnus does close his eyes. No claws, no darkness, no black, icy pond. Just Alec, and the smell of warm cotton over a strong, steady shoulder.

It takes him a second to realize how drained he feels. From more than just the ordeal he went through, he's sure. He opens his eyes a crack, glances at the floor; the circle has been disturbed, bark and bits of stone swept out of place. Alec, feeling Magnus shift, must know what he's looking at.

"Yeah, sorry about that," he says softly. "Didn't have much of a choice."

Magnus hums. That explains it; unceremoniously breaking a circle is like slamming open a door from a warm room into a snowstorm, leaving nothing but shock and discomfort for whoever is inside. Opening or dissolving a circle is just as much of a process as creating one, for this very reason. Containing the magick, holding the focus. For protection as much as for ease and comfort.

"It's alright," Magnus says with a heavy breath, pulling back and straightening where he sits. His spine feels strangely wobbly. "I'm glad you did."

Alec releases him, but keeps watching him with a small, concerned frown on his face.

"I'm gonna make you something," he says. It's an order, not a request, and Magnus nods.

"I'll just clean this up," he says, and Alec gives him a small, tight smile. He presses a kiss to Magnus's forehead, before getting up from the floor and heading into the kitchen. Almost immediately, Magnus hears him opening cupboards and moving around, and he takes a deep, deep breath, putting his face in his hands.

He's fine. He's okay. He's fine.

Magnus makes quick work of clearing away his tools, finishes it up before going the bathroom and splashing some water on his face. His reflection is a sorry one, makeup mostly gone and a distinctly ashen quality to his features. He looks nauseous, tired, which is exactly how he feels. He wishes Alec wouldn't see him like this, wouldn't want anyone to. But Alec is here, here for _him, _and Magnus is eternally grateful.

When Magnus enters the kitchen, Alec is almost done with his improvised dish of an omelet, with a side of bacon. It doesn't seem to matter that it's past ten p.m.―breakfast food always works. Next to the plate is a glass of what Magnus identifies as cranberry juice when he takes a sip. Laced with what Magnus assumes is a charm Alec took upon himself to add―such a charm or spell tends to leave a strangely metallic taste, when on the stronger side.

Once Magnus has had a few bites and sips, some of his strength returning, Alec―sitting across from him at the table and watching him the whole time―decides to approach the inevitable.

"What was that?" he asks, without preamble. There's a small crease between his brows, somewhere halfway between thoughtful and concerned. Magnus shakes his head.

"I don't know," he says. It's a kneejerk response, more than anything, and Alec clearly isn't satisfied with it. "I'm not sure. I have an idea, but..."

"But, what?"

Magnus looks down, pokes at his omelet. It's really quite delicious―he just doesn't have much of an appetite, right now.

"But it's been a long time," he eventually says. "And I really want to be wrong." He looks back up at Alec, who holds his gaze, a patiently determined look on his face. Magnus sighs, drags a hand down over his eyes, his mouth. He's so _tired. _"I was projecting. Figured it was a good a time as any. And... there was someone else there."

Alec's frown deepens.

"I can imagine," he says, a little confused. "You run into all kinds of things, especially this time of day."

Magnus shakes his head.

"No, it wasn't―" He exhales, in something like frustration. "This... person. They were powerful, and they were looking for me. Me, specifically. And they found me. Or at least, they got close enough."

Alec leans forward over the table now, rests his arms against the surface.

"Who?"

Magnus tightens his jaw, swallows. He considers how much he should tell Alec, but then remembers how much he knows, already. And honesty is something they've prioritized from the start. He might as well.

"My father," he finally says, evenly. Alec blinks, once.

"Your father," he repeats.

"Remember what I told you about my family?" Magnus says. "My coven?"

"You mean your main argument for us not being together? Rings a bell." Alec's tone is dry, but teasing, and it coaxes a tiny smile out of Magnus.

"Yes," he says. "That. This is the kind of thing I was worried about."

Alec presses his lips together, watches Magnus for a few moments, before leaning back in his chair with an exhale.

"What does he want?"

Magnus shrugs.

"Me," he says. "Nothing grand or ambitious, just... me."

"Why?"

"He's a very proud man," Magnus says wryly. "He'd consider me not just running away, but _getting _away, a profound embarrassment. It may sound small and petty, but trust me, that's all the motivation he needs. Not to mention, he always wanted me to 'rule beside him', as he put it. Whatever that means." He inclines his head, adding acidly, "It was a quite a powerful coven. Still is, as far as I know."

Alec nods slowly.

"Yeah," he says, folding his arms across his chest. "I don't know much, but from what I've heard over the years... Yeah."

Magnus doesn't ask what, exactly, Alec has heard. What he's been told, by whom, how much. He doesn't want to know. His guesses are bad enough.

Alec sighs, looks at Magnus's plate. He cocks his head at it.

"Eat," he says. "You need it."

Magnus doesn't argue. Instead, he slowly finishes off the food, sipping his drink as he does. He feels much better than he did a few minutes ago, some of the shock abating and that abruptly drained energy coming back. When he's done, he sags a little over the table, still very tired, all the same.

"Hey." Alec's voice is soft, and Magnus looks up. The look on Alec's face is one of concern, calm, and pure affection. He leans forward and reaches across the table, taking Magnus's hand in his own; Magnus's is still cool and clammy, he's sure. "It's gonna be okay."

Magnus just looks into those determined hazel eyes, and actually believes him.

X

Alec stays the night, and only leaves around noon the next day, upon Magnus's insistence that he's perfectly fine. They do a quick cleanse, though, just to make sure that there are no lingering energies that may do any harm. Despite what happened last night, there are none to be found. It's both a relief and a concern for Alec. The presence―who Magnus is convinced was his own father―was strong enough to grip Magnus so tightly, and yet there is no trace of it now. That should be a good thing. Still, Alec somehow wishes he had something more palpable to focus on. A clearer threat to somehow face head-on.

It does occur to him, as he leaves, that maybe Magnus was exaggerating. Or overreacting. Alec knows how terrifying it can be to run into something you didn't expect, while disconnected from your body in such a way. But his gut tells him that isn't the case. Magnus is a level-headed person, and Alec trusts him, and he can't imagine that someone with Magnus's level of experience would mistake a brush of foreign energy for a very deliberate attack from his father.

Alec isn't even sure how he knew to come to Magnus's place when he did. It really was just a feeling, a sudden and insistent nudge that had Alec immediately out the door and on his way. It's a good thing he was staying late at the shop at the time; it's not as far from Magnus's place as his own apartment.

It's not all too surprising, though; it happens quite easily that a witch becomes attuned to someone important to them, especially if that person is in tune with the craft, themself. But still. It was unusually intense. Magnus needed him, so he came. And Magnus's need was very real. It must have been. Which means that Magnus may now be in very real danger.

Alec asked Isabelle to keep an eye on the shop, to open it for him this morning, and perhaps stay until lunch. She was all too happy to oblige, once he told her the reason for this request. "Take all the time you need," she said, as though they were both in on some kind of private joke. Alec didn't correct her assumption―letting her believe that he was simply spending a nice, post-coital morning with his boyfriend was just easier than explaining the truth. She'd be worried if she knew, anyway.

Some snow fell during the night, by the looks of it, just barely clinging to the ground. Most of it has melted, some remaining snow dusted up against the walls of the buildings by the sidewalk. Alec heads toward his shop, which is now just down the street, pulling in a deep breath of cold, crisp air. The scent of coffee is carried with it, from the two paper cups balancing on the paper tray in his hand. They're from a local coffee shop―the same one he and Magnus visited, after that night in Central Park―and he knows Isabelle will appreciate it. He, personally, cannot wait to take a sip, since he barely slept last night.

Magnus, meanwhile, slept like a rock, no doubt too exhausted from his ordeal for much else. He even seemed mostly okay, this morning.

Alec finally reaches the door of the shop, exhaling a relieved, visible puff of air, when he hits a patch of ice. The one patch of ice along the entire sidewalk, it would seem, strategically placed right where Alec happens to step. It sends him falling backward before he can even react, landing him flat on his ass, coffee still balanced in his hand. Coffee, which miraculously hasn't spilled, kept steady by more than just his own coordination. Good to know that even on an instinctual level, his magick has its preferences and priorities. Bruise your ass, but god forbid you mess up the coffee.

Alec lets out a heavy sigh, just sits there for a second or two, already embarrassed and just too tired to care. A couple of people walk by, but they don't seem to care much at all, which is just how Alec likes it. From above, however, he hears a loud _caw. _He looks up. In the tree above him, clutching the bare branches, is a crow. It's looking down at Alec as though he is the most entertaining thing it's seen all day.

"This is funny to you?" Alec mutters at the bird, which just cocks its head, blinking. Another _caw, _the ruffling of feathers, and some shifting of its feet. Alec sighs, looks down at the ground. He's not about to be laughed at by a bird. And the coffee is getting cold.

The only thing really hurt is Alec's pride, when he finally gets up from the cold ground, but the warm welcome of the shop is comforting, all the same. It's not just because it's cozy and pleasant; there's more than one protective or soothing spell warding the place. It's part of why people tend to spend at least half an hour in here, when they come.

"Alec." Isabelle sounds almost surprised to see him, looking up from her post by the register. She closes the large book in her hands and pushes it aside. "I thought you'd be gone for the day."

Alec frowns, sniffling from the shift of cold to warm.

"I just said the morning," he says. Isabelle half-shrugs.

"Still," she says, and Alec does his best to ignore the conspiring look of uniquely sisterly teasing in her eyes.

"I brought coffee," Alec says instead, holding out the paper tray. Isabelle lights up.

"Aw, you shouldn't have," she says, taking it from him so that he can unwrap the scarf around his neck.

"You're right," he says dryly. "I'll take it off your hands, don't worry."

Isabelle gives him a flat look.

"You know, for someone who just got laid, you're lacking some glow," she says. Alec doesn't correct her, instead just raises his eyebrows.

"And for someone who was just given free coffee," he retorts, "you're lacking some appreciation."

Isabelle tilts her head, plasters on an exaggerated smile.

"Thank you, big brother," she says. "What would I do without you?"

Alec doesn't answer that. Truth is, Isabelle is probably the most independent person he can think of, if she needs to be.

"That said," Isabelle continues, slowly spinning the chair to follow Alec with her gaze as he heads for the back room. "You do have a coffee maker. I could just make some."

"I'll readily admit that the stuff that comes out of that coffee maker is sub-par," Alec says, disappearing into the small back room to hang up his jacket, scarf, and gloves. The coffee maker in question sits on a small counter next to a small sink, in the corner of the room. It's a tight squeeze, with all the shelves and storage, but it's enough. A small fridge, a couple of cupboards, a microwave. Just enough to accommodate up to two people who might want to occupy the two chairs and small table beside it.

"Fair enough," Isabelle murmurs into her paper cup, just loud enough for Alec to hear it. He then hears her hum happily as she sips the coffee, and he smiles.

Alec mentally goes through his to-do list―he has already fallen behind a bit, given how he spent the first half of his day. Some shelves need restocking, but he also did expand his book selection recently, with some less conventional titles. He knows how hard it can be to find legit books on magick and its facets, especially its history and more practical aspects. A few customers have even told him as much. So he's cleared some space in the book section of the shop, and he now gets the right box from the back room to unpack it.

"Oh, hey," Isabelle says as he passes her by, as though she just thought of something. "Are you bringing pie, this weekend?"

Alec frowns, sets his box down on a stool he pulls out from a corner, near the bookshelf he's looking for. It's at the far end of the small shop, pushed against the wall, where only people who know what they're looking for would go, really.

"Pie?" he asks, cutting the box open and peeking inside. The place he got these books from is a smaller store, carrying a lot of lesser-known titles, some by indie publishers and some even out of print.

"For dinner," Isabelle clarifies, apparently almost offended by his confusion. She has followed him through the shop, and she holds out his own paper cup he forgot on the counter. Alec takes it, has a sip. Still good.

"Right," he says. "But dinner implies that the food is already there."

"It's a potluck," Isabelle says, her shoulders sagging dramatically. "You agreed to bring the pie. For dessert. Well," she cocks her head, "_I _wanted cake, but you insisted on pie."

Alec nods slowly, remembering the conversation. "Right, sorry. I forgot. I'll bring it," he adds, when he sees the reprimanding look on his sister's face.

"Good," she says, satisfied. Alec takes a few more sips of coffee, before putting the cup aside―careful to avoid the other books sitting on these shelves―and getting to work unpacking the box.

"Any specific kind?" he asks, eyeing the spines of the new books and placing them in alphabetical order, under their appropriate categories. The shop is pretty empty, this time of day, so neither he nor Isabelle are in any rush, at the moment.

"I don't know," Isabelle says, pouting slightly in thought, eyes on the ceiling. "Blueberry? Pecan?"

"Clary doesn't like pecan," Alec says, starting to fill up a mostly-empty shelf at the very top. He has no trouble reaching it. "And I'm honestly not a big fan, either."

"Blueberry, then," Isabelle decides, and Alec looks back down to his box.

"Sounds good," he says. "Just―" A soft _thud _draws his attention. He turns to find a book lying flat on its shelf, inconspicuous and quiet. Alec picks the book up to lean against its friends, places it a little more tilted this time to keep it in place. Its spine looks right at home with those of the others, somewhat ornate and a little less modern in style. Not one of the books Alec just unpacked. A more comprehensive history of the darker branches of magick, if he remembers correctly.

"Just make sure Jace doesn't forget the snacks, this time," Alec continues, eyes still on the book, as though to intimidate it into staying put. Satisfied, he turns back to Isabelle. "Hangry is not a good look on any of us."

"I'm sure he'll manage," Isabelle says dryly. "And I am always a delight, it's you two that can't handle it."

"Yeah, yeah." Alec gets a few more books from the box, eyes the titles and author names before putting them where they belong in his carefully alphabetized system.

"So," Isabelle starts after a few moments. "Magnus."

A tiny shiver up Alec's spine, firecrackers going off in his chest. A tug at the corner of his mouth at the mere mention of his favorite person outside of his family.

"What about him?" he asks.

"He's coming, right?"

Alec looks up from the books in his hands.

"That's the plan," he says.

"Good," Isabelle says, reassured and clearly a little excited. "We're all dying to meet him. Properly."

"You've met him," Alec points out, throwing her a glance as he goes back to organizing. She has bumped into Magnus several times right here, in the shop.

"_Properly," _Isabelle emphasizes. "As in, on purpose. Outside a workplace-scenario."

"You don't work here."

"Semantics." Isabelle sighs, folds her arms over her chest, paper cup still clutched in one hand. She leans back against a bookshelf. "Well, tell me about him, then." Before Alec can reply, she adds, "Actual things. Not just how wonderful he is, or the color of his eyes."

Alec gives her disgruntled look, but hates that she isn't really too far off from where his thoughts went, if he's being honest.

"What do you wanna know?" he asks, glancing at a few book spines, before picking up the next alphabetically appropriate one. Isabelle shrugs.

"What does he do?" she says. "Does he have any pets? Family? Hell, what's his last name?"

"He's a book editor," Alec says absently. "Works from home. No, and no. And his last name is Bane."

He lets it slip before he can stop himself, and freezes mid-motion, just as Isabelle registers what he said.

"Wait, B―" She pauses, as though realizing from Alec's own reaction that he is, in fact, referring to the kind of _Bane _she's thinking of. That the name isn't just a coincidence, like she for a split second assumed. "Oh. Oh, Alec―"

"I know," Alec interrupts, a little stiffly. He resumes his task, reanimating after only a couple of seconds. "I know. That's not him anymore. It's not a big deal."

"But―"

"It's not a big deal," he says, turning to his sister. She looks concerned, a little surprised, her brow furrowed in a sympathetic expression. Alec understands why. They were raised in the same household, were told the same things about the Bane legacy and their coven and, honestly, anyone even remotely involved with that particular language of magick.

Still. Given that it's been almost a month since he and Magnus became a couple, Alec almost feels a little bad that he's kept so much of it hidden from his sister. From his family, from his friends. Well, not so much _hidden. _They know _of _Magnus, they know he's Alec's boyfriend, Isabelle has met him many times now, however briefly. They know how the two of them met, where they're at in their relationship. And they know that Alec can be a very private person, and that this is his first relationship in over three years. They know, through Alec, that Magnus is even more private. That they'll meet him when the time is right.

Which is supposed to be this weekend. Isabelle outright invited Magnus to spend some time with her, Alec, and their friends, and Magnus gladly said yes. Even when Alec later assured him that he didn't have to do anything he didn't want to do, Magnus insisted that he did want to. And Alec believes him. In truth, he's excited that all the most important people in his life are finally going to intersect properly.

The silence grows a little tense between Alec and Isabelle, Isabelle clearly a little unsure of how to proceed. Eventually, though, she seems to settle.

"He seems really nice," she says. It's sincere, not placating or awkward. Alec turns to her, nods.

"He is," he says. "He's amazing." Alec swallows past the lump in his throat, which is already starting to disappear, as he relaxes. "Probably the most amazing person I've ever met."

He says that last part quietly, like he's letting a secret slip, and he can sense Isabelle watching him intently. Then she smiles warmly.

"You've really fallen hard, haven't you?" she says.

There's not an ounce of teasing in her voice, only soft, gently excited support. Alec turns to her, almost a little self-consciously. He nods. _Fallen _doesn't even quite cut it, he thinks. If he has fallen, he has done so headfirst, without thinking, without a parachute, and all the other appropriate metaphors. Falling, plummeting through the sky and terrified of hitting the ground but just as excited and confident that he won't. Or that it'll be worth it, if he does.

He's pretty sure that this is what being in love feels like.

Isabelle hums, a pleased kind of sound.

"Well," she says, with an exhale, "I can't wait for everyone to meet him."

A small smile tugs at Alec's mouth, ducking his head as he reaches for more books to put up on the shelves. He swears that he can feel himself _blushing. _Which is utterly ridiculous.

A _thud_, from the same spot as before. Alec looks up. The book that fell over earlier is once again flat on its side, the front cover facing down. Alec frowns. It didn't even slide, this time. It's fallen in the opposite direction, away from where he tilted it before.

"So, Friday," Isabelle says, her voice back to the same conversational tone as a few minutes ago. Before Alec unintentionally dropped something of a bombshell on her.

"Yeah," he says absently.

"You're on pie duty?"

Alec nods.

"Yeah."

He pushes the fallen book back up into place.

X

Magnus yawns so wide that he feels like his jaw is about to unhinge, and he blinks blearily, a little teary-eyed. Alec frowns.

"Tired?" he asks, and Magnus nods.

"Yeah," he says, leaning over the shop counter and giving his boyfriend a kiss, all the same. "Just haven't been sleeping well."

"Still stressing about that manuscript?" Alec asks. "I thought you wrapped that up, last week."

"I was supposed to," Magnus admits, a little sheepishly. "But I begged for a short extension. I don't know if the stress is affecting my sleep, or if my lack of sleep is causing me stress, but here we are."

Alec hums, his frown deepening, and Magnus sighs.

"Don't give me that," he says, pressing a fingertip to the furrow between Alec's brows. "I'm fine. It's just sleep."

"Are you taking anything for it?" Alec asks. Always so vigilant and thoughtful.

"Nothing a little belladonna can't fix," Magnus says lightly. He removes his finger and instead smoothes over Alec's forehead with his thumb, relaxing that frown. He smiles. "But thank you being so concerned."

Alec scoffs, smiling, and Magnus gives him another kiss. When Magnus pulls back, there's that happy, somewhat dopey look on Alec's face that makes him feel like the most brightly shining thing in the world.

Alec snaps out of it soon enough, though, and instead clears his throat.

"So, uh," he says. "I got you something."

He's direct when he says it, and Magnus pulls back in surprise, at the sudden shift in tone. He shouldn't be surprised, though. Alec is definitely more the blunt type.

"Intriguing," Magnus says. "Do tell."

"Well," Alec says, pushing back his chair slightly and bending down to open a drawer behind the counter. "I thought about that night. With the― Your father."

Magnus blinks, unprepared for that particular reply. They haven't really talked about it in the past few weeks since it happened, and Magnus just kind of assumed it had been forgotten. He kind of hoped it had. He's afraid that mentioning it would make him have to admit the nightmares he's been having. Nothing seems to be enough to still them, and they've been keeping him up for some time.

Alec doesn't need to know that, though. He'd only worry. And it's only nightmares.

"Oh?" Magnus says.

"Yeah." Alec finds what he's looking for, and retrieves it. He looks at the object in his hand for a moment, as though hesitating―or perhaps gathering courage―before he looks up. He looks as though he's about to say something, but decides against it. Instead, he holds up the object between him and Magnus.

Magnus takes it, and untangles the twine wrapped around it. The end is attached to large pendant of dark, solid iron, twisted into the shape of an arrow, just a few inches long. He holds it up to spin slightly in front of him. It casts a sharp silhouette, reflecting barely any light at all. It's clearly meant to hang in a window, perhaps, rather than be worn on one's person.

"I enchanted it, too," Alec says, of course having been diligent enough to enhance the iron's already natural malice-repelling qualities. "It's not much, but it should help a bit. You know, make you feel a little safer. Maybe."

He sounds a little self-conscious, as though realizing how it sounds out loud―he's also aware of the precautions Magnus has already taken to keep his apartment more secure. But Magnus doesn't care. All he feels is a fond, surprised smile curl is lips, and he meets Alec's expectant gaze. He makes his way behind the counter and tilts Alec's head up in a kiss, slow and warm and deep.

"Thank you," he says quietly. He doesn't need to say that he loves the gift as well as the gesture, doesn't need to explain why it means so much to him or how he never would have expected Alec to do something so thoughtful when Magnus knows full well his own worries would seem a bit too much, if Alec knew. He doesn't need to say any of that, because he's sure that Alec knows. Somehow.

Alec smiles, bumps their foreheads lightly together. He captures Magnus's lips in a soft kiss.

"You're welcome."

X

Magnus doesn't expect this night to be any different than any other. At least, not in a less than pleasant way. It has only been a few hours since he and Alec made their way home to his apartment, after a rather lively winter solstice celebration with the three eldest Lightwoods and their friends. And Magnus rather enjoyed himself. A lot, as a matter of fact. It wasn't his first time spending that kind of time with that particular group of people, but it somehow felt like the biggest. The most important. Happy and full of life and love.

At the moment, he can't seem to recall what any of those things feel like.

He's not sure what wakes him up, exactly. All he knows it that it's suddenly cold, so cold, chilling to the bone and numbing in its intensity. Like being pulled beneath the still surface of a dark, icy pond.

Except this time, he can't imagine how he got here. Here, wherever that is. It looks like his bedroom, the only source of light being the streetlamp outside his window, just barely sneaking its rays through his closed curtains. He's in his bed, but he can't quite tell if he's there at all. The sheets tighten uncomfortably around his leg, a highly physical sensation. Bunching up and stretching toward the foot of the bed, hooked into and dragged down by curved, razor-sharp talons.

Magnus can't see the creature's face, its features blurring, vibrating in the air. There but not. It takes a moment for him to realize that the widening, black void in the middle is its mouth, crookedly unhinging at the jaw as the creature slowly moves up to hover over his face. The smell spewing from its maw is repugnant, sulfur and rotting flesh, and Magnus gags. But he can't move. Can't close his eyes, can't look away, can't will his limbs to push the creature off, to defend himself, can't make his throat work to summon some kind of spell. Or call for help. Anything at all.

The creature is silent, save for the high-pitched, barely audible wheeze of an inhale, ringing in Magnus's ears. The room is so quiet. No sound except for the slight rustling of bedsheets mingling with Magnus's strained breathing. The silence is so loud it makes him want to scream.

Then, somehow, he breaks free.

Magnus jackknifes into sitting position, eyes flying open and darting around to get his bearings. He tightens the muscles of his arms and legs, experimentally curling his fingers into fists, overcome with relief at being to do so. Then he takes a deep, deep breath, keenly aware of how his entire body is covered in a cold sweat, heart racing, his breathing shallow and uneven. Almost on the verge of sobbing. He tries to swallow, his throat dry.

The creature is nowhere to be found. The tar-like stains of its presence are nothing but a memory, sinking slowly through the air around him.

Alec notices this, of course he does, and Magnus is distantly aware of Alec sleepily saying his name. Then he wakes up properly, sits up in the bed, a hand finding its way to Magnus's back. He immediately notices how Magnus is shivering and panting, all at once.

"Magnus." Alec's voice is soft, but urgent. His hand moves to the back of Magnus's neck, where Magnus's hair sticks to his skin with sweat. Alec doesn't seem to care, instead kneads the muscles there in a soothing, steady movements, and Magnus closes his eyes, manages to take another breath. "Hey. You're okay."

He doesn't ask _if _Magnus is okay, which Magnus greatly appreciates―because he obviously isn't, by his own metric. Instead, he's aware of Alec smoothing his hair back from his forehead, pressing a kiss to his temple. He murmurs that he'll be right back, but Magnus barely notices. He just feels cold, clammy, afraid. Small. The mattress shifts beneath him as Alec gets out of bed, but he returns just a couple of minutes later―Magnus hasn't moved an inch, in his absence. The light on the bedside table has been turned on.

"Here," Alec says softly, and Magnus opens his eyes, turns to him. Alec is holding out a cup, warm and fresh-smelling, and Magnus takes it, grateful for such a tactile, comforting distraction. He inhales the steam rising from the cup; peppermint, with a touch of passionflower.

As he sips the tea―its calming effects fast-acting enough for him to know that there's some light spellwork involved, as well as herbs―Alec leaves again, only to soon return with a soft blanket, which he wraps around Magnus's shoulders. It's dry and warm, unlike the sweat-soaked sheets, and it's immensely comforting. Magnus just closes his eyes, inhales and lets out an exhale so deep and relaxed that it feels like the first proper breath he has taken since he woke up. Alec rubs his back slowly, through the blanket, and it's only when Magnus has had a few more sips of tea and clearly calmed down, that Alec speaks again.

"What happened?" he asks, as pragmatic yet thoughtful as ever. "Bad dream?"

Magnus shakes his head, sighs.

"It wasn't a dream," he says certainly, rubbing his eyes with one hand. There's no point in lying, at this point. "It was a premonition."

His voice sounds hoarse and tired, and he takes another sip of tea. He can feel it wrapping around his raw nerves, soothing them like warm, soft cotton. There's a bitter note of valerian in there, as well.

"Of what?" He can hear a frown in Alec's voice.

"Not sure," Magnus says. "It's been a very long time since I last had one. But it's bad. It's bad."

He tries not to think of the creature he saw, the sight of its gaping maw burned into his retinas. The very physical sensation of the ground shifting beneath him as the creature moved up along his body, seared into his memory. The smell.

Alec considers Magnus's words for a moment.

"Of him?" he asks. Magnus can tell that he already knows.

"I think so," Magnus says quietly, lightly pressing his fingertips into the surface of the cup, comforted by the unequivocal _realness _of the heat. He takes another sip, and another.

He feels Alec shift behind him, beside him, letting out a deep breath. There's only one thing, one person, this premonition could be referring to.

In a sudden spike of anxiety, Magnus gulps down the rest of the tea―it's not warm enough to burn his throat―and gazes into the now empty cup with a sigh. He turns to Alec, with a somewhat sheepish expression. "Can I have some more of this?"

Alec huffs a laugh as his no doubt pitiful look, and takes the cup from his hands.

"One sec," he says, but as he moves to get up, Magnus stops him, with a light grip on his wrist.

"Something a little stronger, this time?"

Alec looks fondly exasperated now, but still leans in and gives him a soft kiss. He says nothing else as he leaves the bedroom a second time.

When Alec returns, Magnus is already feeling sleepy exhaustion set in, recovering from the stress of the dream, but he still gratefully accepts another cup of tea―this time with the smallest dash of whiskey. He gives Alec a cozy, appreciative smile.

"Thank you," he says, getting only another kiss in reply. They sit in silence for a little while longer.

"Can they track you?" Alec asks after a minute. Magnus shakes his head.

"No," he says. "Or, they shouldn't be able to. I maintain a few protection spells to keep me off their radar, have been since I left them. Reinforced regularly by Catarina, if not myself. Thanks to it, I haven't sensed them once in the past several years, or anything about them. But now..."

"Now?"

Alec knows he's hiding something, and Magnus sighs, closes his eyes.

"I've been having nightmares," he admits, and Alec sighs in something like exasperation. "But not so many anymore, not for the past couple of weeks."

"Magnus," Alec says, tired.

"I know," Magnus says. "I know." He shrugs weakly. "Just didn't seem like a big deal. I figured it was just stress. Or something. This was different, though."

"So something's changed," Alec says. He seems to decide against reprimanding Magnus , for now.

"Must have," he agrees. "Though I don't know what. Maybe what happened on the astral plane, but... that was over a month ago."

Alec glances away, as though suddenly deep in thought about something.

"Well," he says eventually, calmly. "Either way, we'll make sure they don't find you."

As always, he voices this massive feat as though it's the most simple, casual thing in the world, and Magnus's expression becomes sad and resigned for just a moment.

"Alexander," he says. "We've talked about this, you know what they're like, what they can do."

"I do," Alec says. "Probably better than you think. And I'm saying, they're not gonna find you. They're not gonna get to you."

"Alec―"

"We won't let that happen."

"But―"

"I won't let that happen." Alec's voice goes hard as he meets Magnus's gaze, eyes determined and almost jarringly focused, and Magnus just blinks. He watches him for a few moments, objections and rational arguments fully formed in his mind, ready to be spoken, to push Alec off this path he has apparently put himself on.

Magnus nods.

"Okay," he says quietly. He leans in, pressing a kiss to Alec's lips. "Okay."

It's all the reassurance Alec needs at the moment, and after a few more minutes, they lie back down to sleep. Magnus curls up against Alec, inhaling the scent of his skin, the last shreds of tension melting away from his bones.

The light, scurrying patter across the floor doesn't wake him up.

**Author's Note:**

> There you go! I can't say when the second part will be up, but I'm working on it. Hopefully is won't take another year. It won't. Probably.
> 
> You can find me on [the twitters](http://twitter.com/lemonoclefox)!


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